When a rock-throwing kid's mom became my biggest problem

So the other day I was sitting outside my apartment building, waiting for my husband to get home from work. I'd left my keys at the office like an idiot and didn't realize it until I was already at the front door. So there I was, just chilling on a bench, minding my own business, listening to some music.

That's when I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head and see this kid—maybe ten years old, definitely old enough to know better—throwing rocks at a cat stuck in a tree. And not just any tree. This tree was right next to where people park their cars. The fact that he hadn't hit any of them yet was pure luck.

I decided to step in.

I walked over and caught his arm mid-throw. I didn't twist it, didn't grab the rock, didn't do anything aggressive. I just stopped the motion. The kid immediately spun around with his face already scrunching up like he was about to cry, even though I hadn't said a single word yet.

"Hey, why are you throwing rocks at the cat?" I asked in my calmest, most reasonable voice. "She's a living creature. That could really hurt her."

The kid didn't answer. Instead, he started screaming and yanking his arm away. I let go immediately—I wasn't about to restrain someone else's child. Maybe he had some issues, who knows. Normal kids don't usually react like that. The cat was okay, the cars were fine, and honestly, it's not my job to parent other people's kids. So off he ran.

I spent a couple minutes trying to coax the poor cat down from the tree, but she wasn't having it. Couldn't blame her after all that stress. The branch wasn't that high though, so I figured she'd jump down when she was ready. I headed back to my bench.

I barely had time to put my earbuds back in when this woman came charging at me with the little rock-thrower trailing behind her like a tiny, smug shadow.

She was already mid-rant by the time I got my earbuds out. Something about suing me, pressing charges, and making me regret the day I was born.

Turns out the kid had run home and told mommy that some "mean lady" grabbed him, threatened him, and ruined his fun. Look, if some stranger had actually done that to my kid, I'd be furious too. But that's not what happened here.

I tried to explain the situation calmly. Told her exactly what her son was doing. She wasn't listening. She was too busy shoving her phone in my face—probably recording for her inevitable viral "look what this woman did to my baby" video—while screaming over everything I said.

Then she dropped this gem:

"It's none of your business what MY child does! Don't you DARE tell him what to do! Who do you even think you are? And that's OUR cat anyway!"

I'm sorry, what? I'm supposed to just walk by while a kid tortures an animal because he's not my kid and apparently it's their cat to abuse? That's the defense we're going with?

At that point I pulled out my own phone, started recording, calmly explained the situation one more time for the camera, and let her continue her performance. The threats, the profanity, the whole show—all captured in beautiful HD.

Then I told her that if she didn't shut up and leave right now, this recording would be at CPS tomorrow morning. I doubted they'd be impressed by her parenting philosophy or the creative vocabulary she was teaching her son.

She sputtered a bit more, but just then my husband finally showed up. I grabbed him and dragged him inside before he could get involved in the drama. We could hear her yelling threats behind us all the way to the door. Something about finding me and "showing me"—though she never specified what exactly.

Once we were inside, I told him the whole story and showed him the video. He said I did the right thing. Then he added that if I ever turn into one of those entitled "mama bear" types after we have kids, he would personally knock some sense into me.

Fair enough, honey. Fair enough.